


With a Little Help

by writeallnight



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Eddie Diaz Whump, Fever, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Near Drowning, Pneumonia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27483259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeallnight/pseuds/writeallnight
Summary: Eddie's feeling a little rundown after his near drowning experience. Okay, a lot rundown might be more accurate. Post ep for "Eddie Begins."
Comments: 8
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Helloooooo new fandom! First fic for this delightful show! The moment Edmundo Diaz showed up on the screen I was like, THAT ONE IS MINE. I mean, hot single dad? Not to mention he's so whumpable! So here is a little follow up to Eddie Begins. Because there just wasn't enough whump for me.

It’s amazing how many thoughts go through your mind when you’re dying. Becausedespite his best efforts, he is definitely dying. There’s nothing but water all around him, some of which has now gone into his lungs, causing them to burn like fire. He’s cold, surrounded by eerie darkness, and he knows he’s drifting. 

_The day he met Shannon. Their wedding. His buddies in Afghanistan. Buck. Bobby. His family. Christopher._

The one thing in his life he never knew he needed.

_Christopher._

The one good thing.

_Christopher!_

His eyes shoot open and his limbs flail as panic overtakes the dreaminess. His son. If he dies here, if he gives up, Christopher will be an orphan. And he can’t let that happen. Not this time. Not after everything they’ve been through.

His muscles are like lead but he’s no stranger to fatigue so he pushes past it, forward, any direction he can and the next thing he knows, by some impossible miracle, his head breaks the surface.

Gasping, choking he sucks down lungfuls of cold, wet air. He half floats on his back, half splashes and flails toward the shoreline. It’s not graceful or pretty, but he’s not out of the woods until he gets out of this water and everything has gone pretty much numb making it hard to do anything but hurl his body forward with awkward lurches.

He drags himself up on the bank, still gasping like he’s run a marathon and all he wants to do is lie down and sleep for a year, but he can see and hear the commotion where the mouth of the well is and he has to let his squad know he’s all right so he pulls himself up onto his feet and stumbles his way toward the ruckus.

That’s when his legs finally, truly give out and he nearly face plants into the mud, but gentle, familiar hands are there to catch him and keep him upright. Buck’s face swims before him and Eddie tries for a smile, not quite sure he manages it. None of them look happy to see him, in fact they look completely horrified. “You never seen a guy covered in a little dirt before?” he tries to joke, but the words don’t quite make it past his lips. Instead what comes out is a string of jumbled nonsense that’s neither Spanish nor English and definitely doesn’t make any sense.

Oh. Not good.

Bobby and Buck have him on either side and they half carry, half drag him after Chimney and Hen toward the ambulance. He tries to help but his body no longer seems to be following orders.

“Nice and easy,” Bobby says as they lay him flat on a backboard.

Then Chim and Hen are right in his face. “Let’s get this off of him,” Hen orders even as she’s already cutting through his shirt. “Buck get some blankets. Where’s that warm saline? He’s freezing!”

He really doesn’t want them to cut his clothes off since he’s now full on shivering, but before he knows it he’s been stripped down to his skivvies. Bless his abuela for always telling him to wear clean underwear.

He still doesn’t feel like he can quite get a full breath, which he tries to explain to Hen but she shushes him, listening to his chest as Chim stabs him with an IV. He’s so goddamn tired and he just wants to close his eyes but Hen snaps at him. “Edmundo Diaz don’t you dare go to sleep on me now!” she says forcefully, rubbing none too kindly against his sternum.

The shivering gets worse, even with the warm IV that’s starting to flood his veins. He feels his left calf cramp painfully and lets out half a groan. Feeling is starting to come back and with it a truckload of pain. It’s like he can feel every, single muscle in his body is screaming at him. “Hang in there Eddie, we got you,” Chim says.

Chimney who hardly ever does anything but smile, is looking at him with so much concern that Eddie wonders if he should maybe be more worried about his fate. “Christopher,” he rasps out. He’s got a will but it hasn’t been updated since Shannon…and now he panics. Who’s going to look after his kid if he dies? Why didn’t he think about this sooner? He’s a god damn firefighter, he should have a will that provides for his kid—

“Christopher’s fine Eddie.” Bobby comes back into view his hand sliding comfortingly into Eddie’s and he grabs it like a lifeline. “He’s home safe and now you are too. Just take it easy all right?”

If Bobby says it, it must be true. Things are starting to get a little hazy. He’s not quite sure what happened anymore. If he could just get some sleep—

Thank god for Hen and her ability to know everything because he’s barely started retching when she yells, “Get him on his side!” Hands pull him and he gags on

water, bile, anything that was in his stomach is now on the ground.

Wouldn’t that be a headline? ‘Local Firefighter Dies Choking on His Own Puke After Rescuing Child.’ Not the way he wants to be remembered. It almost makes him laugh but he can barely breathe let alone find the energy for humor right now.

“What’s he saying?” Chim asks.

“I think he’s praying,” Hen answers and it’s only then that Eddie realizes that indeed, prayers are slipping past his lips. Prayers he’d long thought forgotten, dredged up from the depths of his childhood Catholic school education, tumbling out as the realization of his mortality hits him like a truck.

Finally they wrap him in a blanket and lift him from the ground. “We’re taking you to the hospital Eddie,” Hen says, placing a hand on his arm. “You’re going to be just fine.”

The blankets and warm fluids help his mind to come back around and he stays conscious on the way to the hospital. But by the time they get there the coughing has set in. His body is beyond unhappy and doing its level best to not only expel the well water he inhaled, but apparently his lungs as well.

His painful breaths fog up the oxygen mask and he pulls it to the side so he can speak. “The kid okay?” he rasps to Chim who’s adjusting one of his IV’s.

“Good to go,” Chimney says, smile back on his face. Okay that’s a good sign, maybe Eddie’s not going to die.

The hospital takes forever. He’s not hypothermic but it’s borderline. His chest x-rays come back okay but not great. They insist on more tests and the sun is rising before they decide he’s stable enough to go home with lots of warnings about coming back immediately if any complications come up. He makes promises he has no intention of keeping and then escapes out into the morning.

Bobby is waiting for him. “Thought you might need a ride,” he says.

“Yeah, thanks,” Eddie says, gratitude flooding through him. He’s bone weary and all he wants is to do is go home, hug his kid, and pass out for about twelve hours or so.

“You feeling okay?” Bobby asks as he drives.

“I’ve been worse,” Eddie says cryptically, fighting sleep.

“I know you’re exhausted,” Bobby says. “So I won’t push. But if you need to talk, just know my door is always open.”

“Thanks Bobby,” Eddie says gratefully.

How he got so lucky to have this man for a captain he’ll never know. But he is beyond thankful to work with someone who cares so much. Who knows when to push and when to let up.

They pull up to the house and Eddie spots the babysitter’s car in the driveway. He’s supposed to relieve her and take Christopher to school but he can barely keep his eyes open. “Why don’t I take Christopher to school?” Bobby asks shrewdly.

The man has raised kids. He gets it.

“Nah,” Eddie says, taking a breath and trying to muster up the energy to unbuckle and get out of the car. “Shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

“Eddie, let me get this one,” Bobby says. “It’s no trouble.”

“Cap I—“

“Don’t ‘Cap’ me right now,” Bobby says kindly but firmly. “We’re family. You’ve had a rough night. This is the least I can do to help out.”

He gives in, both because Bobby’s right and because he’s truly not sure he’s capable of driving safely right now.

They go inside and greet Christopher who is, as always, ecstatic to see his dad and thrilled to be going to school with Bobby. “But why aren’t you taking me Dad?” he asks as he pulls on his backpack.

“I uh…” Eddie searches for words.

“Because I asked to take you,” Bobby covers smoothly. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to hang out with the 118’s only honorary firefighter. We have a lot to catch up on.”

Christopher accepts this answer and immediately starts telling Bobby about a science project they’re doing that involves Skittles as they head for the door.

Eddie doesn’t even make it to his bed. He collapses on the couch and within seconds he’s dead to the world. The next thing he knows Christopher’s afternoon carpool is honking outside.

He rallies for Friday. Truly he thinks he makes a remarkable effort to appear like a normal, happy dad in front of his kids’ classmates and teachers, all while feeling like he’s been hit by a bus. Every muscle aches and his chest still burns. Coughing fits are a special version of hell that cause every breath to be knifelike. Thank god Christopher has a playdate after school that involves dinner because by the time six o’clock rolls around he feels like death.

He makes another remarkable effort for bedtime, tucking his kid into his Batman sheets and kissing him goodnight before falling face first into the couch.

Christopher wakes him up in the morning. Well, wakes is a strong word because full consciousness seems like a real struggle right now. His head aches, his joints throb, and he cannot stop coughing. “Daddy?” Christopher asks in his sweet, singsong voice, patting Eddie gently on the cheek.

“Hey bud,” Eddie croaks.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m just feeling a little…a little sick today,” Eddie says, following it up with a hacking coughing fit.

“Can we go get donuts?”

Right, it’s Saturday. They usually hit up their favorite donut spot. “I think we have to skip today,” Eddie says. “Sorry bud.”

“It’s okay. I’ll get some cereal.”

God he couldn’t love this kid more. He never complains, never pitches a fit, even when things don’t go his way.

Eddie tries to get up and go help to make sure they don’t end up with cereal all over the floor, but his head pounds even more violently against his skull forcing him to lay back down with a stifled groan. God he feels like shit.

He’s in and out of sleep, more in than out. When he’s awake he wishes he was asleep because breathing is so hard and his body hurts so much. Christopher might be talking to him and a part of him knows he should get up and take care of his kid, but every time he thinks about it his eyes drift closed.

The next time he wakes up it’s because someone is trying to break his ribcage. “Bobby?” he croaks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in updating and I'm not going to lie, it will likely happen again. But there will be more! Thanks to everyone who has loved on this fic so far!

Bobby’s phone buzzes as he finishes emptying the dishwasher, Eddie’s name flashing across the screen. That’s unusual. Hen calls, Chimney calls, but Buck and Eddie stick to texting. Something to do with the millennial generation and not having time for phone conversations.

He reaches for the final plate as he answers. “Hey Eddie, what’s up?”

“Bobby?”

It’s not Eddie’s voice. Bobby straightens up, all his attention now on the phone call. “Hi Christopher,” he says, trying to keep his voice even and calm. Maybe this is just a hello. They’d had a great time on the way to school the other day, it could be nothing more than a friendly chat. “Is everything okay?”

“My dad is sick.”

Bobby sets the plate on the counter, danger radar activated. “Well I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He won’t get up,” Christopher says and now Bobby can hear the seriousness in the boy’s tone. “I think he needs help.”

Bobby is already halfway to the door, keys in hand. “You did the right thing calling Christopher,” Bobby says, switching to speaker phone so he can text Hen at the same time, even as he slides into his car. It might be an overreaction, but something in his gut knows Eddie’s not all right.“Can I talk to your dad?” Bobby asks as he pulls out of the driveway.

“I’ll try,” Christopher says and Bobby hears the muffled sounds of Christopher moving around and his voice trying to call his dad to the phone. After a minute he comes back on. “Bobby he’s really sleepy.”

Bobby’s phone buzzes and he glances down to find a return text from Hen. _On my way._ Thank god for a team that will drop anything to help one of their own.

He instructs Christopher to unlock the front door and seriously pushes his luck with the speed limit until he’s in the driveway. “Christopher?” he calls opening the door. “Eddie?”

Firefighter mode kicks in as he finds them both, Christopher sitting in a chair, Eddie on the couch looking…bad; frankly there’s no other word for it. “Hey buddy,” Bobby says to Christopher as he sinks down beside the sofa, trying to assess the situation. Years of training have taught him to be calm, even as he feels panic pumping through his veins. “Eddie, hey you with me?”

Eddie is prone, his face pale except for the dark circles under his eyes. His breathing is extremely labored, catching somewhere in his chest and then rattling up the rest of the way. Bobby doesn’t get a response and he puts a gentle hand on Eddie’s forehead only to find it far too hot. 

Bobby pulls out his phone and starts texting Buck. Someone is going to need to take care of Christopher if they end up hospital bound. “Christopher how long has he been asleep?” Bobby asks as he takes Eddie’s pulse.

“He said I could get my own cereal,” Christopher says. “But now he won’t wake up.”

Breakfast time. Bobby checks his watch. It’s heading toward one o’clock now so it’s a good bet Eddie’s been out of it for a few hours.

“Is he okay?” Christopher’s eyes are full of worry and Bobby feels slightly sick himself. The boy has already lost his mother, he doesn’t need to be worried about losing his dad too.

“Christopher can you do me a favor?” he asks. “Hen is coming over too. Do you think you can go wait for her out front?”

“Will you help my dad?” Christopher asks.

Bobby nods. “Yeah buddy. I’m going to help him.”

Christopher leaves the room and Bobby rubs a fist over Eddie’s sternum. “Come on Eddie, wake up and talk to me.”

The firefighter’s eyes flutter and he blinks up blearily. “Bobby?” His voice is raspy like he smokes six packs a day.

“Hey,” Bobby says, relief calming his pounding heart at seeing Eddie’s eyes open. “What’s going on?”

“What are you doing here?” Eddie punctuates his question with a terrible coughing fit after which he spends several long, nerve wracking seconds, gasping for air.

“Christopher couldn’t wake you up so he called me,” Bobby says.

“Shouldn’t have come over,” Eddie croaks. “‘m fine.”

“Yeah I’m not so sure about that,” Bobby says. “How long have you been like this?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says, eyes sliding shut again.

“No, no, no,” Bobby says quickly, reaching to shake his shoulder. “Eddie you need to talk to me.”

“It’s just a cold,” Eddie says, but the words come out more like a moan.

“Bobby?” Hen’s voice comes from the front door and she steps into the room, emergency kit in hand.

“I’m fine,” Eddie rasps again even as another coughing fit causes him to curl up into himself.

“No, you’re not,” Bobby says firmly as Hen joins them. “You need to let us help you.”

“Talk to me Eddie, what hurts?” Hen asks as she reaches for his wrist, following the same steps Bobby had minutes earlier.

Eddie sucks in a noisy lungful of air. “My head,” he finally admits. “My chest.”

“You having trouble breathing?” Hen asks, even though the answer is pretty obvious.

He nods, eyes closing. “I think we need to take him in,” Hen tells Bobby. “I’m worried about his oxygenation. It’s probably pneumonia and if he’s this out of it he needs some help.”

Bobby nods. “Then we’ll take him in.”

“What about Christopher?”

“Buck should be here any minute.”

“Okay I’m going to call ahead and let them know we’re coming,” Hen says, pulling out her phone.

“Bobby? Eddie?” Buck appears in the living room, concern all over his face. He’s sweaty and in gym shorts, clearly they’d caught him in the middle of a workout. “Oh my god.”

“Hey good you’re here,” Bobby says. “Hen and I are going to take him in. Can you stay here with Christopher?”

“Yeah, yeah of course. Is he gonna be all right?” Buck asks, eyes locked on Eddie’s face.

“Hen thinks it’s pneumonia,” Bobby says as she hangs up the phone.

“They’ll waiting for us,” Hen says. “Let’s get him out of here.”

Bobby and Buck each take a side and carry Eddie out to the car. Hen climbs in the back seat while Bobby starts up the engine. “You’ll call?” Buck asks through the window.

Bobby nods. “Soon as we know anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean...I did promise some Eddie whump and I hope I delivered! Like I said above, more to come soon-ish!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter didn't exist when I started writing this fic and I am so glad I added it in. Christopher is THE BEST and it was fun to write him with Buck. Enjoy!

Buck watches as Bobby pulls out of the driveway, fear making his throat tight. Bobby’s text had interrupted his lifting session and he’d literally run out of the gym without even racking his weights.

“Buck?”

Christopher’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts and he automatically turns on a smile. He’s barely had time to process and now he’s responsible for Eddie’s kid. He has to rally. “Hey bud.” He moves up the steps to sit next to him. “You doing all right?”

“Is my dad going to be okay?”

God, this is not Buck’s calling in life. There’s a reason he became a firefighter and not like a teacher or something. “Yeah, yes of course he’s going to be totally fine,” he says reassuringly.

“My mom went to sleep and she never woke up.”

That gets his attention. “What?”

Christopher sighs and adjusts his glasses. “My dad said my mom went to sleep at the hospital. And then she didn’t wake up.”

Shit. “Oh, Chris, this is…this is not the same as what happened to your mom. Your dad is sick, really sick, but they’re going to help him at the hospital I promise. Bobby and Hen, they’re going to make sure he’s okay.”

He hopes the words he’s saying are true. Eddie looked really awful, worse than Buck’s ever seen him. But Bobby had called Hen, not 911 reminded himself. So that must mean something. If he’d thought Eddie was dying he would have called for emergency services, not a second opinion.

“Do you promise?” Christopher asks.

Buck puts an arm around him and gives him a hug. “I promise.” He changes tacks. “How about some lunch? You want a sandwich?”

Christopher nods and they head inside. “Okay.” Buck checks out the fridge, impressed as always that there’s actual food in there. His own fridge is mostly beer, condiments, and whatever takeout he’s had recently. “How does turkey sound?”

Christopher shakes his head so Buck tries again. “Ham?” Another head shake. “Well I know you don’t want pastrami.” That must be Eddie’s.

“PB and J,” Christopher says.

“Right. That I can definitely do,” Buck says, reaching for the jelly and peanut butter. “You know it’s really weird that your dad keeps peanut butter in the fridge right?”

Christopher lets out a sigh. “I told him that. But he didn’t listen.”

“Sounds about right,” Buck says with a grin as he manages two acceptable PB and J’s. He slides Christopher’s over. “There you go kiddo.”

Christopher just looks down at it as Buck takes a large bite of his own. “Something wrong with it?” Buck asks, wondering how he could possibly mess up a PB and J.

“My dad cuts the crusts off. And makes triangles.”

Bucks nods and sets down his sandwich. “Got it. No problem.”

Within seconds the problem is fixed and both of them are munching contentedly on their sandwiches. Buck keeps sending what he hopes are subtle looks at his phone but there’s still no word from Bobby or Hen, despite several texts to both of them.

After their impromptu lunch Christopher settles in front of the TV while Buck finally goes to grab a shower. He borrows a pair of shorts and a 118 t-shirt from Eddie’s drawer, sending his fifth or sixth text to Hen on his way back out to his favorite little buddy.

But the TV is off now and Christopher is sitting at the table, staring at a pile of what look like craft supplies. “Hey bud, whatcha doing?” Buck asks.

“My dad was going to help me with my book report,” Christopher says. “I have to make a diorama.”

“They still do that?” Buck asks. “I thought everything you guys did these days was on a computer.”

“My teacher is old school,” Christopher says with a shrug.

“Well…” Buck picks up a Nike shoebox. “I could help you.”

Christopher eyes him suspiciously. “Did you get good grades on your book reports?”

“I’d say they were…passable.”

“I don’t think I want passable.”

“C’mon! It’ll be fun. Besides, how hard can it be?”

Half an hour later Buck adds the finishing touches to his creation. “There,” he says. “Perfect.”

Christopher looks up from gluing paper to cover the swoosh logo on the shoebox and stares at the small model in Buck’s hand. “What is that?”

“You told me to make a dog.”

“That does not look like a dog.”

“What do you mean? Look it’s got a face and ears…”

“Why does it have five legs?”

“That’s its tail.”

Christopher gently pats his hand and then picks up the dog model. “You tried your best. But I think I’ve got it from here. Gluing the paper on might be more your speed.”

“More my speed?” Buck asks, slightly incredulous. His phone buzzes and he picks up immediately, rising and walking away from the table. “Bobby, hey how’s he doing?”

“He’s doing okay,” Bobby says. “They’ve got him intubated for now but he’s doing all right.”

“Intubated? Bobby…”

“Its mostly just precautionary. He’s breathing much better now and they’re not planning on having it in any longer than necessary.”

Buck runs an anxious hand over his hair. “Okay well, that’s good I guess.”

“Listen I got in touch with his grandmother and aunt and they’re on their way here now. Any chance you can stay with Christopher tonight? If not I can call Athena—“

“No, no I got him,” Buck says.

“You sure?” Bobby asks.

Buck looks to where Christopher is making significant improvements to his dog model.

“Yeah. It’s no problem.”

“All right. His aunt said she can get him in the morning so you can still make shift.”

“Bobby, tell me the truth. Is Eddie going to be all right?”

Bobby pauses for a moment. “I think so. He’s young and in good health. The doctors fully expect him to come back from this.”

There’s some noise in the background and Bobby covers the phone briefly before coming back. “Listen Buck I have to go. If you or Christopher need anything call Athena all right?”

Buck hangs up and tries to swallow his own worry and fear. “Who wants to have a sleepover?”

They get the project finished and Buck orders a pizza for dinner, not giving in when Christopher practically begs for a soda. He made that mistake exactly one time and Eddie was beyond pissed, sending him texts at two in the morning that Christopher was still wide awake.

The kid falls asleep halfway through Zootopia and Buck helps him get ready for bed before sacking out on the couch himself. He’s woken a few hours later and at first he’s not sure why. Then he hears sniffling coming from Christopher’s room. He’s up in a heartbeat, stumbling down the hallway, heart pounding with terror. Eddie’s told him about Christopher’s occasional seizures and they definitely don’t need that right now in addition to everything else. “Chris, buddy, you okay?” he asks as he pushes the door open.

The light is on and Christopher is curled up into a little ball on his bed, stuffed dog clutched tightly to his chest. “Hey, what’s going on?” Buck asks, sinking down next to him.

“I miss my dad,” Christopher sobs, curling into Buck’s side. “I want my mom.”

Buck’s relief over not having to help Christopher through a seizure is short lived as the words tear straight through him. He wraps his arms around Christopher and hugs him close. “Hey, it’s okay. Your dad is going to be home really soon. He’s a tough guy. And I know all he wants right now is to be here with you.”

Christopher doesn’t say anything more but his tears slowly subside and soon Buck realizes he’s asleep again. He eases away, carefully extricating his arms and torso before pulling up the blankets and turning out the light. He hopes with everything in him that what he just told Christopher is true.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Thanks to those who have loved on this fic. Looking forward to possibly writing more when the new season airs!

Eddie wakes up to a stunning view of the hospital ceiling. He has vague recollections of the car ride to the hospital, Bobby at the wheel, Hen in the backseat with him telling him to stay awake and breathe. Everything else after that is kind of a blur.

There’s something in his throat that he doesn’t like and he can’t seem to move his hands to remove it. But breathing hurts less and he’s not wracked with chills anymore. So that must be good, right?

He has so many questions, but either he’s still really sick or they’ve got him on the good stuff because he can’t seem to stay awake. Sleep pulls him downward and his last thought is that Christopher has a book report due on Monday and he’d promised to help him finish it.

The next time he wakes up the thing in his throat is gone and the fog in his brain has cleared enough for him to realize he had probably been on a vent. His throat is dry, which sends him into a coughing fit, but it’s not quite as bad as before.

“Hey there.” A nurse he vaguely recognizes from various trips to the hospital comes in and checks his vitals. “Good to see you awake.”

“I’m sick?” Eddie asks, still trying to put all the pieces together.

“Pneumonia,” the nurse says, eyes compassionate. “You were in rough shape when your friends brought you in.”

“How long?” He clears his throat trying to clear some of the roughness from his voice.

“About twenty-four hours,” she says.

Shit. “Do you uh,” he tries to clear his throat again without much success, “do you know where my kid is?”

She probably doesn’t, but his memory of how he got here is hazy and he can’t remember where Christopher ended up, which is enough to make him start panicking.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, no, but someone brought your phone if you need to make some calls.”

She nods toward the nightstand and Eddie spots it sitting next to his watch and wallet. He reaches for it, ignoring the way his muscles still seem to be protesting his little dip through the underground. He finds Bobby’s number and waits anxiously, expelling a few more coughs before his boss answers. “Eddie, hey how are you feeling?” Bobby asks immediately.

“I’m good, I’m fine, Bobby where’s Christopher?”

“Eddie take a deep breath okay? Do you really think we would leave him to his own devices?” Bobby says calmly. Eddie can hear the background noise of the firehouse diminish; Bobby must have gone into his office. “Buck stayed with him the first day and now he’s with your aunt. We’ve got you covered.”

Relief floods through him and he sinks back into the pillows, running a hand over his face. “God what a mess,” he says, more to himself than to Bobby.

“Hey we’re just glad you’re okay,” Bobby says. “You looked pretty bad when Hen and I got there.”

“How did you get there?” Eddie asks in confusion. “Did I call you?” He has no memory of it if he did.

“Christopher called,” Bobby says. “That’s a good kid you’ve got there. He knew you needed help.”

Something warm blooms in his chest and it makes him smile. “Yeah I’m pretty lucky.”

“Well listen, get some rest, I’ll swing by and check on you after shift,” Bobby says.

“Thanks Bobby,” Eddies says. He still feels kind of like shit, but at least he knows his kid is taken care of. And he’s taken care of too.

“Anytime. Feel better.”

Eddie drifts in and out of sleep and when he wakes up in the afternoon he actually does feel better than he has in days. His chest still rattles a bit when he coughs, but overall he feels far less dead. He’s thinking of calling for the nurse to find out when he can get out of this place when there’s a knock on his door. “Hola,” his Aunt Josephina says cheerfully, shuffling a smiling Christopher into the room.

Eddie’s heart lifts immensely and he offers up his arms for a hug, which Christopher willingly leans into. “Hey bud,” he says, kissing Christopher’s curls, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Christopher says as he pulls back and settles into the chair Josephina brings over for him. “Are you feeling better?”

“A lot better,” Eddie says. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“Just a little bit,” Christopher tells him. “But Bobby and Hen and Buck said you would be okay.”

“Yeah I hear I have you to thank for the rescue on this one,” Eddie says, taking a second to cough into his elbow.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” Josephina chides him. “Running yourself into the ground like this, what are you thinking?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Eddie says, swallowing another cough. He turns his attention back to his son. “What do you have there bud?”

Christopher holds up his craft project. “Buck helped me make it. He wasn’t very good. But he tried.”

Eddie takes in the small models and crayon drawn background and feels a rush of gratitude toward his friend. “I hope you told him thank you,” Eddie says, finding his throat a little thick.

Christopher nods. “We got pizza too. But he didn’t let me have soda.”

Eddie smiles. “That was probably a good choice.”

They chat for a while longer before his aunt checks her watch. “Come along cariña,” Josephina says, standing and holding out her hand to Christopher. “We need to let your dad get some rest.”

Eddie wants to protest. In fact what he really wants is to get out of here and go back to normal life, but he can feel sleep crowding in again. He wraps Christopher in one last hug. “I’ll be home soon all right? Be good for your aunt.”

“Okay. I love you Dad.”

It’s another day before they let him go home and over a week before he gets back to work. There have been multiple visits from everyone at the 118 including a lot of casseroles and offers to babysit along with some health supplements like echinacea and green tea. He’s still slightly embarrassed over having to be rescued from his own home, but also overwhelmed with gratitude.

It comes as no surprise that when he walks back through the doors of the station there’s a giant banner with “Welcome Back Eddie” in blue letters hanging from the loft. And of course the entire house is there to greet him. “Hey there he is!” Chimney’s the first one to spot him, smile wide on his face.

“Welcome back Eddie!” Buck calls and there are claps and cheers and whistles all around.

“I was only gone for a week,” Eddie says. “You didn’t need to do all this.”

“Any reason to have cake is a good reason,” Bobby says, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“And now we have a banner for the next time you do something stupid and almost get yourself killed,” Hen says. “It can live in the storage closet with Chimney and Buck’s.”

“Why do you keep banners for Buck and Chimney in the storage closet?” Eddie asks.

Hen rolls her eyes. “We got tired of remaking them every time they ended up in the hospital.”

Eddie nods although he’s not sure how he feels about being grouped in with the rest of the frequent injury club. “Well thank you all. For everything. For this and for helping out with Christopher.” He puts a hand over his heart. “You have no idea how much it means to me.”

“Hey,” Bobby says. “We’re family here. We’ve always got your back.”

“Now let’s eat some cake!” Buck says, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Hey how did Christopher do on his book report?”

“He got an A,” Eddie says with a smile. “He said to tell you thank you.”

“I knew it,” Buck says. “I came through after all.”

“Somehow I don’t think it was your help that got him the grade,” Eddie says skeptically. “But seriously, thank you for helping him with it. I owe you one.”

“Buy me a beer after shift and we’ll call it even,” Buck says and then, predictably, gets distracted. “Ooh! Hey! Chim! I want a corner!”

Eddie watches his friends gather around the table, liberal amounts of cake being loaded onto plates, and finds himself smiling. He’s not quite sure how he lucked into this crazy bunch. But now he knows for sure, with their help, he can get through anything.


End file.
